Letters to Lysander
by maybewesortoosoon
Summary: "Dear Lysander, they say you've died. I don't believe them." Lorcan writes letters to Lysander after the latter's death.


Dear Lysander,

Mum and Dad have sent me to a therapist. I've no idea why. The therapist said it might help me to write letters, so here goes nothing.

* * *

Dear Lysander,

They say that you've died. I don't believe them. Mum and Dad won't let me see your body. They said that it would only serve to upset me. Personally, I think that they're just joking with me. Remember when we were little kids, and we used to hide in Mum's old trunk? We used to pretend that we had gone missing. Mum normally didn't mind it so much. Except that one time, of course. Grandpa had just died, so I suppose it must have been a little stressful at the time. I wouldn't really know, having never lost anyone close to me. Although, I seem to remember we damaged some of the silver swirls on the top, as well. It was our favourite place when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never mattered that we always knew where the other was hiding, or when we began to get too big to squeeze in there together.

Come out, come out wherever you are.

- Lorcan.

* * *

Dear Lysander,

The funeral was a few weeks ago. I haven't written to you in while, I know. I've been too angry. Did you really have to get up and leave me, without so much as a goodbye? You never did care about other people. Not once you started spending time with Lily Potter. Stupid sociopathic girl. She held too much influence over you, always did. I blame her for this, you know. You were only eleven when she left, for God's sake! And if she's such a well-trained, smart Unspeakable as you say she is, and she loved you so, why the hell didn't she try to bring you back to life? Or even anyone else who died in that infernal explosion.

And I'm sick of anyone who tells me that I'm being an asshole. I think I should just stay inside, at home. It's not worth the risk to go outside and offend someone. I get angry and upset too easily these days.

One more thing I hate about this whole farce - people who think they're being reassuring when they say, "Heaven gained an angel." How do they know you were such an angel? I don't think you're an angel.

Angels aren't that cruel. Angels don't leave their brothers alone like that.

- Lorcan.

* * *

Dear Lysander,

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if you were still alive. I wonder if there's anything I can do to bring you back. You always believed in God, I know that. You called me a sinner sometimes. Jokingly, I thought at the time. But maybe I'm at fault for your death. Not Mum's or Dad's or Lily Potter's but mine. If I hadn't been such a bad person, no, if I weren't such a bad person, then maybe you'd still be alive. Maybe God is punishing me with the loss of my brother.

You had a closed coffin, even though you always said you would want an open one, in your more morbid moments. They tried to reason with me, making up excuses like, "There was an explosion. His body doesn't look as it should." They're so heartless, Lys. They keep telling me that my behavior of late is unhealthy, but I think it's unhealthy to move on so quickly. Dad was back at work a week after your death. I don't think they care.

Remember when Lily Potter told you that you were adopted, and it wasn't possible to have twins, that it was a lie?

Maybe you are adopted. Maybe that's why Mum and Dad didn't care. You weren't their biological son, so it didn't matter. And Death didn't take me, because Mum and Dad wouldn't know what to do. Maybe Death has a heart. Sometimes.

I'm all over the place these days. Need a light to travel this path. But I think someone took it away. Because don't you see, Lys, you were my light.

- Lorcan.

* * *

Dear Lysander,

I hardly have the energy to put pen to paper to write you this letter. I've been almost constantly tired lately. I think I said in a previous letter that I was closer to coming to terms with your death. God, it still sounds so strange to say death in connection with you. You, who was always so full of life and love and passion . You'd laugh at me for how pathetic I've become in the last few months. I have to admit, you'd think I was a character in some strange novel. A brother dead in an explosion, the other left heartbroken.

"Bed is friend."

I think you said that to Mum once, when she tried to wake us up over the summer, when we were teenagers. Not exactly a coherent thought, but it's better than the silence that now reigns where you used to be.

I miss you, Lys. But I don't suppose you're ever coming back.

* * *

Dear Lysander,

I found these old letters cleaning out our old room at Mum and Dad's. I never really did it properly when I moved out, and I guess it is about time. Especially since I'm now married with a child.

I'm married to Amelia Finnigan. Do you remember her from Hogwarts? She was a Gryffindor, two years above us.

My child doesn't share your name. I hope that doesn't bother you. I just remember how many expectations seemed to be placed on Fred Weasley, simply because his parents decided to name him after his uncle. Not that I blame them for doing so - it is a rather nice way of honoring someone's memory. But I was never really into trying to make people seem immortal.

I actually went and asked Fred about it, when Amelia and I were still trying to decide on names. He said that it had made for a bit of teenage angst when he was younger.

So we didn't name him directly after you.

I miss you. I still do. But things are easier this way. I hope you're not worried about me.

- Lorcan.

* * *

_A/N: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. (Beater 1, Bellybats)_

_Prompts used: Silver, and "Even death has a heart," - Marcus Zusak, The Book Thief. _


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